


Incipient Repudation

by capriciousTheosophist (orionCipher)



Series: Dissolution of Trust [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Incest, M/M, Stridercest - Freeform, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:55:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orionCipher/pseuds/capriciousTheosophist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dave learns that you don't always want the things you once thought you did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incipient Repudation

**Author's Note:**

> Hell will welcome me with terror in it's eyes.

There are hands molding your body, crafting poses with clever fingers and broad strokes down your sides as they sway your hips from side to side and knock your legs apart. A broader form than yours covets your back, gravitating closer, all muscle and smoothness coated in the richest of earthy musks, enough to send your mind reeling and unsteady his handiwork. 

There's a pause, a quick reapplication of smothered force re-posing you, this time from the front, arms draping past your chest with deep-seeded purpose.

Soon cold dribbles down a crevice and nimble digits slide and peruse the pallid expanse left open and inviting to invasion.  
The stinging passes, eases out slowly with the cold as his gloved phalanges delve deeper, squirming and scissoring, testing the waters while claiming them - stretching you further apart as you cling violently to the ragged couch victimized by your strangle hold. As you grind your teeth and nick your tongue on their edges in a desperate plea to hush the keening threatening to escape your mouth. The desperate moans and greedy whimpers. The manifestation of all the building fear and want and resentment and pain blooming within.

Tears manage to spill out; one by one by one they trail down a deep flush and scatter before sprinkling the worn carpet, the only hint a mild hitch in your already ravaged breathing.

He's pressing deeper now, gracelessly rubbing raw something buried deep inside, blinding you, deafening you, chocking the air from your lungs.

Clinging even tighter he brings you to the edge while his other palm skates over tender pectorals, nails etching red lines across the delicate planes, scathing the nerves of your nipples, luring them into peaks. He's taken it so slow up till now, but it's getting to be too much – the head of his cock nudges against loosened ring - too fast.

He's burrowing in with every breath and you're sure he'll break you; before this even began everything you'd seen warned you against it – the heavy droop in his slacks, the glimpses you'd caught when he'd brought women home – but you never did listen to reason. You're being split in half in the best and worst of ways and it's too late to ponder the what-ifs and it's far too late to back out now.

You're so close and he just keeps pushing you further towards your soundless end.

All the way to the hilt, he's flush against you now, his hands cradling yours like baggy sleeves and for the briefest of moments you feel like you're wearing him. Or is he wearing you?

He pivots faster, twisting minutely, so good, so bad, making and unmaking you all at once before your world of colour is enveloped in black and white and starbursts eventually settle in your eyes. You feel heat rushing through you, hear a screeching gasp careen from your lips, and relish the feeling of being marked and owned so irrevocably by him.

By the time you come round it's cold and you're empty, so so so empty.

Your Bro's gone and you've been spilt like so much blood - like the blood leaking down your thighs and hardening on the ruined carpet.

You started out his brother and ended up his puppet

Could it really have ended any other way?

Would you have let it?

Tears wash down your face again and this time you don't hold them back.

There's no one here to hear them, anyways.


End file.
